My Mother is a storyteller. It was annoying. Here is where Great Grandma so and so homesteaded. Do you see that hill, that used to be... Family stories. Ranch community stories.
I didn't listen very well. In fact I am ashamed to admit that I listen with one ear and ignore her with the other. I'm sure I've heard that same story over and over again. Little did I know the wisdom of her telling.
The braiding of stories into the fabric of my life. The stories are embedded in the very essence of who I am. A backdrop. Foundational.
This person mailed me a letter when I found out I was pregnant and congratulated me. This person took me hunting with the guys as a child. That person taught me how to sew. A neighbor taught me how to garden and preserve and cook. Aunt Ally led me to the Lord and mentored me.
Uncle Deb is one of these people. Delbert to everyone else. One of the younger sons (out of 8 children) of my homesteading Great Grandparents. The Great Grandma that lived on that homestead five miles away from my house. He was my Grandma's brother.
He was rancher, mechanic, teacher, Dad, Grandpa, neighbor and friend. He was brother, Uncle, mentor and friend.
He was mentor to Mom and Dad's friend. Her Grandma and his Mom pregnant at the same time. Shared guards, floods, droughts and poor cattle prices. Shared death, birth and life together.
As my parents have more free time and so did Delbert...they spent more and more time together. Dad talked cows and Mom made potato soup. They told stories, remembered, celebrated and grieved together.
My Mom and Dad are hurting now as Uncle Deb has passed to heaven. His Mama met him I'm sure.
I ran into reality once again. I might not have known him well, he is part of my life. He is one of those influencers who changed the pattern and trajectory of my future.
I honor him. I'm asking questions and listening to the stories.
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